What Lies Beneath The Shadow Of The Statue
by briteskies
Summary: Jacob/Richard. Flashback. A lazy afternoon spent on the beach results in nap-time for Richard and leaves Jacob time to contemplate on a few things while he watches over him.


The shadows were long now, cool deep blue stretches of colour that painted the white-washed beach with twilight. He was not certain if he had a definitive favourite time of day or not – dawn, midday or dusk – but he was certain that on _this_ day, it was his favourite moment so far.

He did not have many days like these. Days for himself. Days where he spent the afternoon on the beach, watching the waves and reveling the sensation of the sand beneath his toes. Days where he could spend all the time that he cared to, counting the gulls diving for fish or the sand crabs that scurried along the shoreline with their awkward little legs, or could simply lay back to watch the evening storms clouds roll in and listen to the sound of thunder in the distance.

But he was not doing any of those things now.

Instead, he was turned on one side; an elbow propped beneath him and his chin resting comfortable in his palm as he listened to the soft and rhythmic sounds of the slow and peaceful breaths coming from the person next to him. He watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the way that his impossibly dark lashes fluttered against the sun-kissed skin of his cheekbones from the delicate movements of his dream-covered eyes.

For a while now, Jacob had been watching him. For years it had only been from afar: through the mirrors of the lighthouse, or from the edges of his own world; glimpses of his life that had once been, and the man that he would become. When Jacob had written his name down, back in the days when the walls were still relatively clean, he had not anticipated that he would be crossing it out so soon. But then again, that was Jacob's own doing, and no fault of his.

"Doesn't that count as cheating?" a man whose name Jacob refused to say had asked.

But Jacob did not like to think so, and had said as much. He had given him a choice, after all. He could have said no. He could have refused. If he had, his name might still be on the wall. But Jacob preferred to have the name crossed out. Because that meant that he was there, right beside him instead of elsewhere.

He wondered, as he watched him sleep there in the sand, if he understood just yet what he had agreed to. If it was going to take years for him to fully even realize the gravity and reality of his choice. Jacob would have liked to have explained everything to him from the start, but he truly believed that there were some things better left for discovering on ones own.

Jacob himself understood quite well what it was like to have the years pass by him like streams of cool water; he knew what it was like to feel like the stone stuck in the riverbed. But Jacob also knew that he liked the feel of it, smooth and quick slipping through his fingers. He hoped that the other might feel the same about it; for it was the only way it could be, if he had truly meant the answer he had given.

"I want you with me," Jacob had said. The stars had been out that night, and they were sitting next to a fire that smoked and smoldered and glared a bitter orange for attention. "Always."

He said nothing at first. Just looked back with those gentle and brilliant eyes of his with the expression of a man who was no victim to the art of subtlety; he knew the weight of a statement without having to be told. Very little slipped by his attention, it was one of the many things Jacob liked about him.

And then he told Jacob that he would stay.

That was the second time that Jacob had ever touched him, but likely the first time the other would remember. The first had been years ago along the edge of a marketplace – Jacob had brushed against his shoulder – a necessary encounter. This was less out of necessity and more out of desire; a slide of a thumb across the smooth tanned skin of his cheek.

"Thank you," he said. But then said no more. Not with the damn freshly broken and everything left to flood in. The unspoken understanding that now that the question and been asked and the answer had been given, there was no reason for formalities or hesitation. It was skin against skin beside the dying fire as the stars burned silver in the sky; the breathless sounds of 'yes' and 'please' and 'forever' caught in the winds and carried to the edges of the world.

Jacob remembered that night better than almost any other night he could recall. He knew what that meant. Just as he knew that he meant what he had said more than he probably realized at the time that he had said it. Someday, he would tell him that. Tell him everything. But he was in no hurry today. After all, forever is a very long time.


End file.
